The Prophet had not opened his mouth to give out even one text.  He had not opened his mouth, either, to give his name; the writ designated him merely by his sobriquet.  But there was a queer little wrinkle at each corner of that closed mouth.

CHAPTER XX

NO STRAW FOR THE BRICKS

Mr. Harnden banged his pulpy fist on the board at which so he had declared, Tasper Britt was to sit.

“I have ruled a happy home by love in the past.  Don’t force me to rule it otherwise now.”

He was obliged to lower his eyes to a level at last because his neck ached.  He was forced to turn those eyes in his daughter’s direction, for her gaze was of that compelling quality which causes the object of regard to return the scrutiny.

“I tell you, I’m not lowering myself by taking in boarders,” the father insisted.  “I have become tied up in a business way with my friend Britt.  We need to be in conference right along.  They’re going to tear down his house.  Shall I let it be said that I left a friend ahungered and without a roof?  Shall—­”

“Father, I’m no longer patient enough to listen to any more of that nonsense,” said Vona.

“But it isn’t nonsense,” put in the mother.  “Poor Tasper is left without a home.  Files’s vittles have nigh killed him.  He was always used to home cooking.  He—­”

“Please!  Please!” protested the girl, impatiently.  “We’re three grown-ups.  Let’s be honest with one another.  I, at least, have been honest—­ever since I declared myself under this roof last winter.”

“If you’re bound to put your father’s and your mother’s close friendship for a man strictly on the business basis, we’ll have it that way,” agreed Mr. Harnden, trying to straightedge his little bunghole of a mouth and failing.

“Very well, father!  We shall get along better.  I’m not in any position to dictate in our home—­”

“Well, I should say not!” exploded the master.

“But I have worked and turned in my money to help support it, and I have my personal rights here.”

Mr. Harnden had more success in arranging the expression he assumed then; he looked hurt; he had been very successful with that expression in the past.  “Any farseeing man has his ups and downs, Vona.  Is it kind to twit your father—­”

She protested more impatiently still.  “I am simply presenting the business side of the matter.  I say, I have earned some rights to be comfortable in my own home.  On the plea of friendship for a man whom I detest, you are proposing to destroy that comfort.  Is your friendship for that man greater than your love for your daughter?”